


An Original Work (Authenticity and Provenance Debateable)

by jessikast



Category: St Trinian's (2007)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 19:58:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessikast/pseuds/jessikast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-movie. Annabelle's only option to prevent a job from going bust is to pretend Kelly is her girlfriend. The only option. Obviously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Original Work (Authenticity and Provenance Debateable)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sangerin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sangerin/gifts).



> Major thanks to my beta, any remaining misplaced commas are my own. Merry Christmas, sangerin! I hope you enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed the excuse to buy the St Trinian's DVD and rewatch and rewatch... :-D

Annabelle walked confidently into the exhibition gallery and accepted a glass of champagne from a circling waiter with a polite smile. She drifted to the first painting on the left and examined it critically for a minute before she turned and allowed herself to scan the room for Kelly.

They'd arrived separately, and Kelly should have been there for fifteen minutes already, casing the gallery and taking note any details Polly hadn't been able to weasel out of the computer security system already. Annabelle's job was to evaluate the art and pick the two or three paintings they'd target when the job went down in two nights, in the time between the end of the CLGLBA fundraising exhibition and the final auction.

Annabelle spied Kelly's brilliant red wig over near the drinks table and, thus reassured, turned back to the paintings in front of her, evaluating them for cost, ability to fence, and how easily Auntie Camilla could produce some…derivative works from them. Annabelle was attempting to cultivate her own skills in that area, follow the family tradition and all, but her real talents were proving to lie in grifting. Kelly made brilliantly devious plans and ran their operations; Polly covered any technical details; the Posh Totties provided tips and leads gathered from their own lucrative businesses; and the twins continued to forward disturbingly effective and destructive formulas for explosives and chemical weapons from their science classes. Annabelle could think on her feet, smile convincingly and distract their mark from their upcoming loss of personal belongings.

It was genius, really, although Annabelle occasionally got tired of smiling and wished she still had hockey sticks on hand.

Annabelle was looking around for somewhere to put down her empty champagne glass when red hair caught her eye again and she noticed Kelly across the room, looking frustrated. Which was exceedingly odd because the meticulous and brilliant planning were Kelly's favourite part of a job. The slight frown and pressed lips were out of place, and Annabelle drifted closer.

It seemed like the source of distraction was the woman who had cornered Kelly and was talking and smiling and _giggling_. Annabelle was walking across the room before she remembered that she and Kelly weren't meant to know each other tonight, but honestly, it was just intolerable to allow that…that…_shamless hussy_ to get in the way of the job.

Annabelle only had a second to catch Kelly's eye and widen her own: _I'm changing the plan, go with it!_

(Or at least, that's what she hoped Kelly got from it. Annabelle wasn't very good yet at the eloquent non-verbal communication thing, even though the Posh Totties were trying their best to instruct her in the ways of an arched eyebrow, or a half-smile combined with lowered eyelids just-so. So far their verdict was that when Annabelle tried to say "Certainly, you may buy me a drink" she was conveying "I have conjunctivitis and this amuses me.")

Annabelle put her arm around Kelly's waist and pointedly ignored the blonde who was keeping Kelly's attention from the security panel by the service door. "Darling, I missed you!" she said brightly. "You simply _must_ come look at the new Rory Dashwood that's on display. I swear it would look simply smashing over our mantelpiece."

Kelly quirked her lips slightly, but put an arm around Annabelle's waist in return. "Absolutely. You must excuse me, Susan, it was lovely chatting to you."

Annabelle ignored the disgruntled look on the other woman's face and didn't stop pulling Kelly across the room until they were standing in front of the Dashwood, conveniently situated below an air vent Annabelle knew Kelly wanted to look at.

"Not that I don't appreciate you rescuing me from that bore of a conversation, _sweetheart_" Kelly murmered, leaning in close to Annabelle's ear, "but I hadn't realised we were a couple tonight."

"We're not! I mean..." Annabelle said, flustered by Kelly's warm breath and the smell of her perfume. "It just seemed the most logical thing, that's all. She was obviously distracting you from evaluating the security properly, and..."

Kelly grinned and the hand resting against Annabelle's side squeezed slightly, which didn't make Annabelle jump at _all_. "Oh, don't protest so much, I know you're just jealous."

Annabelle knew she was starting to blush furiously. "I wasn't! It's strictly professional and it's about the job and—"

Kelly rolled her eyes and cut her off, pulling back slightly, ostensibly to focus her attention on the air vent. "Well, I suppose this is more efficient. Do you know, she was the third woman tonight to hit on me? I swear, it's not like I encourage them."

Annabelle snorted.

"I'm not!" Kelly said, affronted. "You know I don't mix business with pleasure, even if they were my type." She finished her inspection and turned her attention back to Annabelle. "Did you get what you need?"

Annabelle tried to ignore her racing heartbeat - probably related to the way Kelly's finger's were absent-mindedly stroking the small of her back - and nodded towards three paintings. "Those. And maybe the one in the foyer. Do you think—Kelly, do pay attention."

Kelly was frowning over Annabelle's shoulder. "Sorry, thought I saw someone I knew. I'm sure it can't have been..." She shook her head slightly as if to clear it. "Right, if you've got your lot covered, come with me. I want check out the service corridor before we go."

Annabelle let Kelly take hold of her hand and followed her as they drifted through the room towards the back exit, pausing occasionally to admire an artwork. Now that they were so _obviously_ a couple Annabelle felt entitled to glare at the women and occasional man who were admiring the way Kelly filled out her dress. This was honestly the last time Annabelle would agree to them crashing any event the Central London Gay and Lesbian Business Association was holding. Get a few champagne cocktails into them, and the women were so much cruder and more _obvious_ than men, it was almost embarrassing.

She nearly tripped over her feet when Kelly suddenly spun her and pushed her through the door. The corridor walls were painted the same neutral white as the gallery, but the floor wasn't polished wood, just painted concrete. Kelly walked briskly past the kitchen entrance, and turned a corner. The sound of the caterer's chatting was quickly muffled, and Kelly pulled Annabelle into a alcove containing some pipes while they stared at the door of the utility-slash-security room.

Annabelle pressed herself back against the wall, feeling the cold leech through her silk shirt, and was glad of Kelly pressed against her front in the small space—the gallery was well heated for the December show, but the service area really wasn't.

"The guards should be going out in—" Kelly checked her watch "—eight minutes. We can wait here til then, at which point we'll have precisely twelve minutes in there."

Annabelle wormed an arm around Kelly's back under her cropped black jacket and let herself turn her head slightly until her nose was hidden in Kelly's wig. "I might freeze to death before then," she said petulantly.

"Oh come on, you love this," Kelly said, shifting her weight on her five-inch heels, pressing closer to Annabelle in the process.

Knowing Kelly couldn't see her expression, Annabelle grinned. "I do not. A life of crime is absolutely nothing I aspire to, it's a smear on the noble Fritton name—" She squawked (quietly) when Annabelle poked her hip sharply.

They were both giggling quietly, half from amusement, half as an outlet from the adrenalin and nerves waiting brought when they heard footsteps. They both froze and held their breaths, locking eyes as they listened intently. Kelly's eyes widened after a moment as she leaned forward to breathe in Annabelle's ear. "They're going to see us, the guard's coming from the wrong direction, this alcove won't hide us from them—"

The footsteps grew louder and every spy movie she'd seen ran through Annabelle's head. Without thinking she spun Kelly around, shoved her against the wall with the length of her body, and pressed her lips against Kelly's.

Eyes shut tight she didn't move for a second, feeling more than hearing Kelly's surprised breath and flailing before one of Kelly's arms tightened around her waist and the other hand rose to cup her cheek just as the guard rounded the corner.

Not a second too late—instead of the anticipated loud and suspicious question, there was an embarrassed cough and shuffle of feet, then a second louder cough a second later. Annabelle jumped back from Kelly, eyes theatrically wide, trying to ignore the fizzing in her brain and desperate for a second to figure out if she had really felt Kelly's lips start to move as the guard arrived.

"Oh...oh my goodness!" Her blush was entirely unfeigned, if not for embarrassment. She caught Kelly's eye, briefly surprised to see that calm, elegant, put-together Kelly was looking a little stunned, her eyes wide and mouth dropped open. Annabelle felt a flutter in her belly at the sight of Kelly's perfect red lipstick slightly smeared, but turned her attention back to the guard.

"I didn't think there would be anyone down here...we're not in trouble are we? It's just it was _so_ hot in the gallery and we wanted a moment away from...everyone, and—" The young guard, flustered by her apologetic explanation, coughed again to interrupt her.

"I'm sure it's no problem...I'll just...Um...I'll just let you ladies see yourselves straight back to the party. That should be okay. I don't think I'd really need to report this to Mr Foster..." His voice trailed of hopefully, and Annabelle smiled reassuringly at him.

"I'm sure you don't. It's just such a little mistake entirely on our parts, and I can just see by looking at you how _seriously_ you take your job. Why don't you go back and guard the door so no one else can be so silly to stumble down here!" She laughed lightly, and the guard allowed himself to be turned back to stand sentinel at the door.

Kelly snorted in amusement. "God bless enthusiastic, hopeless new guards. Of course, he's the one who probably got the schedule mixed up."

"Actually," said a voice from the door of the utility room, "he was following my instructions." Another man in a security guard's uniform was watching them coolly, walkie-talkie in hand. Unlike the so-new-he-was-still-shiny patrol guard, this man was middle-aged, looked alarmingly competent, and the name tag on his uniform said "FOSTER".

"Oh..._shit_," said Annabelle quietly. Baby guards she could handle, but when it came to competent guards their usual strategy was either to not get caught or have Chelsea's advanced distraction skills on hand. "We were just saying—" she began, but Foster just raised a sceptical eyebrow.

"Yes, I heard what you were just saying. You'll forgive me for not believing you, I'm sure. Your acting skills need a little work, although you're definitely …" He waved one hand up and down at them "…distracting. If you don't know any better."

Kelly reached forward slightly and gripped Annabelle's hand reassuringly while Annabelle's mind whirred frantically to come up with a plan to get out. Any plan - they couldn't run to either door. Pretend to be...inspectors of some kind? Except inspectors probably didn't engage in back-hallway make out sessions. Kelly's hand squeezed hers again urgently and Annabelle remembered abruptly the feeling of that hand, spread flat against the small of her back, pulling her closer... Shit. She opened her mouth to say...what, she wasn't sure, when two more sets of footsteps came down the hallway.

The newcomers were one of the blonde girls who had been handing out nibbles and a tall good-looking black man who Annabelle thought she remembered making some intelligent-sounding comments about one of the more overlooked paintings. Her moment of relief was brief indeed when she realised that these sources of possible distraction or rescue were walking far too purposefully for people turned the wrong way in the corridor, and that they were nodding familiar greetings to Foster.

Kelly had gone still beside her, but still had a firm grip on Annabelle's hand. Now her other hand came around to grasp Annabelle's wrist as well. "I know that girl!" she whispered urgently. "I knew I recognised her before! I think they're all..."

"Kelly Jones," interrupted the girl in a pleasant tone of voice. "What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?"

Annabelle felt Kelly release the death grip on her wrist as she stepped forward between her and the others, pure Kelly Jones ballsy charm, as if she had nothing better to do than drape herself elegantly against a painted cinderblock wall. "Oh…I'm sure you know," Kelly drawled. "What about you, Emma? It looks like you've found an interesting occupation since I last saw you?"

Emma's friends looked just as surprised as Annabelle felt at this casual chat, but they hid it quickly when Emma threw them a fast glance and a pointed look. "Oh, this and that," she said. "I'm with a…private consulting team right now. These are my associates Mr Foster and Mr Wall," she said. "And yours?"

Kelly graced the two men with the polite version of her man-eating smile. " This is my very good friend, Annabelle." She looked at Annabelle and shrugged to explain why she wasn't using Annabelle's pseudonym. "Emma is an old school chum of mine," she explained.

"Oh!" said Annabelle, suddenly a bit happier. "Old school chum" meant "St Trinian's", and St Trinians girls stuck together. She held out a hand to Emma who took it after a second's hesitation, and shook it briskly.

"Pleased to meet you," Annabelle said brightly. She still resorted to babbling when she felt nervous or intimidated, such as when faced with…contractors who looked a mite more competent than Flash Harry, however mitigating Kelly's acceptance of Emma was. "You must have left before I started, of course, but it's always nice to meet other old girls. I must remember you to Auntie Camilla—I mean, Miss Fritton—she's always interested to hear how her old students are doing—"

"Annabelle…" started Kelly, at the same time the man introduced as Mr Wall interrupted.

"Do you mean to say Camilla Fritton is your aunt?" he asked in a smooth, warm voice. Annabelle nodded, and he continued with a pleased expression. "Emma, you never mentioned you were taught by Camilla Fritton! She's something of a legend in certain circles - if she were still in the business we would never had needed to that unprofessional as- amateur Tip. "

Mr Foster grunted, not disagreeing. "This school reunion is lovely, but…" he tapped his watch meaningfully.

"All right, Ash, I get the message." Mr Wall's charming manner turned brisk. "There's obviously not the situation here you thought. I assume that these ladies are more interested in the gallery…?" At their confused but confirming nods, he continued "…leaving the guests for us. I don't see any reason why we can't continue on our separate ways."

"Ash, in the interest of friendly co-operation, please stall the guards for two minutes to let Emma's friends access to what they needed in the utility room."

Kelly started to protest this reduced time, but turned it into a cough when Annabelle poked her warningly. She felt like they were lucky in getting any time at all, and didn't want to push Mr Wall. He seemed very nice, certainly, but his eyes were colder than his smile.

"Emma, back to serving," he continued. "Make your way out when you can in half an hour or so, Sean will be waiting with the car. Ladies—" Mr Wall pulled out a card from his jacket pocket, and presented it to Annabelle. "I would be delighted to make further acquaintance with any friends of the inimitable—" (Kelly snorted) "—Camilla Fritton." He nodded politely at them and went to the service entrance while Emma shot an amused look at Kelly and returned towards the party, and Mr Foster-slash-Ash held the utility door open for them while pointedly counting seconds on his watch.

Annabelle took a second to be puzzled that the name on the card read "Michael Stone" before realising that Wall was obviously a fake name before she thrust the business card in her purse, and followed Kelly in. She felt like such a _first year_ at the whole thing sometimes. One minute and forty-five seconds of digital camera shots of everything that might be useful, they let the guard-who-almost-certainly-wasn't pull the door closed behind them.

"Exit's that way, ladies," he said, pointing them to the same exit Mr Wall had just left by. Annabelle met Kelly's eyes, and they agreed wordlessly that leaving now seemed a much better idea than going back to the exhibition, even to get their coats back.

Outside the footpath was slick with rain, and Annabelle hooked her purse over her wrist and took Kelly's arm, the two of them pressing together for warmth as they walked briskly to the taxi rank. It was temporarily empty—had they been inside, a staff member would have called a taxi while they waited in the warmth. Now, Annabelle shivered as Kelly quickly phoned for a taxi, feeling the cold through the soles of her shoes and damp mist gathering on back of her neck where her pinned-up hair left it bare.

Footsteps echoing from down the block made her start, and she pulled Kelly back into a shadow by the wall. "Quick, someone's coming!" she hissed, and pressed her lips to Kelly's again.

This time Kelly's arms embraced her straight away, and Annabelle enjoyed a second of delicious warmth that seemed to flood down her spine even to her chilled toes, before she felt the smile on Kelly's lips. For the third time this evening, Annabelle felt a burning blush in her cheeks and she let her head drop forward to rest on Kelly's shoulder but didn't release her hold on Kelly's upper arms.

It was a good idea to keep Kelly close for warmth. Obviously.

"We're…not actually hiding right now, are we?" Annabelle asked plaintively.

"No, we're not," Kelly answered in an even tone, but Annabelle could _hear_ the smirk that would be turning up the left side of Kelly's mouth.

"We don't have any excuse to be kissing in the middle of an empty footpath in the middle of London," Annabelle continued. Her face must be on fire, but her instinct to run and hide and die of shame (and frustrated lust, if she was being honest) was tempered by Kelly's low amused chuckle and the feel of a cold nose pressing against the side of her neck.

"Do you think we need an excuse?" Kelly's voice was light, but Annabelle could tell she had tensed up and was holding her breath. Annabelle hid her grin against Kelly's shoulder for a second before moving back so she could see Kelly's face, embarrassment quickly running out to be replaced with happiness and anticipation.

Kelly's expression turned from apprehension to relief when she looked at Annabelle, and she was grinning too as Annabelle pressed forward to kiss Kelly. Annabelle's hands clutched convulsively at Kelly's arms when she felt Kelly's lips move against hers, gentle but deceptively intense, and her toes curled at the muffled whimper of protest Kelly made when the taxi's horn tooted obnoxiously behind them.

Abruptly aware that her shivering was only half adrenalin and desire and more to do with the cold eating its way into her bones, Annabelle decisively dragged a surprised and laughing Kelly into the back, told the driver where to go, and pulled the glass divider closed with a bang before turning back to Kelly who was smiling fondly at her.

"I never realised you were so _bossy_," Kelly said, obligingly shifting sideways on the seat as Annabelle turned to lean half on-top of her.

"Well," said Annabelle. "_Someone_ needs to keep you in line."

Kelly raised a sculpted eyebrow. Annabelle determined to learn how to do non-verbal sarcasm later, but for now she settled with leaning forward to pull out the bobby pins holding on Kelly's red wig. Wincing, Kelly took over, until she pulled it off and shook out her own black bob, gloriously dishevelled and with smeared mascara, and looking more beautiful to Annabelle than when Kelly was dressed to the nines without a hair out of place.

She looked at Kelly for a second, a feeling of absolute happiness swelling in her chest, until Kelly's look became quizzical and exasperated she pulled Annabelle down for another kiss, one hand at the back of her neck, the other running up the outside of Annabelle's thigh under her skirt.

Annabelle smiled into the kiss, and dug her hands into Kelly's hair to hold her face perfectly in place while the taxi took a sharp corner and nearly threw them onto the floor.

"Might I convince you to change your policy on mixing business with pleasure?" she asked. "I know it might take a _lot_ of convincing, of course…" Annabelle pressed another kiss to Kelly's lips, squirming slightly as Kelly's hand traced the edge of the top of her stocking. If the flat wasn't empty when they got home, she was going to be _extremely_ cross…

Kelly groaned, and managed to nip Annabelle's lower lip slightly in reply. "I supposed I could stand a little convincing," she conceded. "If you feel it would help _keep me in line_."

Yes, Annabelle thought. And it might be a full time job, but she couldn't _wait_ to begin.


End file.
